


sweet and salty

by ToAStranger



Series: Giving Myself to You (Prompt Fills) [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Humor, M/M, de-aged!Deucalion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:06:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToAStranger/pseuds/ToAStranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is being fantastically stalked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweet and salty

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Fill: 
> 
> bxdcubes said: STALION. YOUNG!DUKE. HS AU. EITHER IS THE NEW KID. WOOING ENSUES. THERE GOTTA BE SEX. FUN, EXCITING, WITH LAUGHTER, AND A WHOLE LOTTA PASSION. No BDSM pls.

The new kid has been stalking Stiles.  Of course, Stiles is the only one who realizes this (imagines it), and all of his friends have been poking fun at him for overreacting.  But it’s true.  Everywhere Stiles goes, there is the new guy.  Hovering. 

Like a creep.  A really hot creep, but a creep none the less. 

Stiles thinks it might be because he doesn’t like him.  Until the note shows up on his locker in ridiculously, absurdly nice hand writing inviting him out to dinner and movie.  The second Stiles finishes reading it, mouth hanging open, a warm body slides in right next to his and leans against the lockers to his right. 

"What do you say?" he asks, and Stiles blinks over at Deucalion in surprise.  "Interested?" 

"Very," Stiles says, voice cracking, and he clears his throat with a faint flush.  "I mean, yeah, you know— whatever."

The best part is that Deucalion doesn’t laugh at him.  He just smiles and nods, and  _oh no he has dimples_.  

"I’ll pick you up at your place.  Friday at seven."  Deucalion says and then pushes off the lockers, casual as can be, and Stiles feels jealousy and desire coil like old pals in his stomach.  "Jeans and a button up should work fine." 

Stiles nods dumbly, and only when Deucalion is practically out of ear shot does Stiles realize what has just been said.  ”Wait, how do you know where I live!?” 

* * *

Their relationship buds quickly.  Deucalion is a year older than Stiles, a senior transferred over from a place called Bath in the southwest region of England, and they work well together.  Stiles is loud, gracefully graceless in his own way, a bright smile always on his face.  Deucalion is encouraging, inviting, constantly coaxing Stiles into being  _more_  of himself like he can’t quite get enough of the way Stiles rambles or talks.

He takes the  ~~threats~~  warnings from Stiles’ father fairly well.  They don’t exactly take things slow after they become “official” three weeks into dating.  Heavy petting, rutting, making out for ridiculous periods of time in absurd places becomes a regular occurrence.  Sex is soon to follow, of course. 

Sometimes it’s serious— like the first time Stiles lets Duke have him— lingering and slow as they work together in an easy burning heat until Stiles feels like they’ll be twined together forever.  Most times though, like this time, it’s light-hearted.  It’s perfect. 

Stiles laughs, head tossed back as Duke grins down at him.  ”What?” 

"I can’t believe you just said that," Stiles snorts, then moans softly as he feels his lover shift deeper.  "Oh, god, yeah.  Just like that." 

Deucalion practically purrs, nudging under his jaw.  ”It’s called dirty talk, love.” 

"You talk too proper to talk dirty, Duke."  Stiles tells him, rocking up to meet him thrust for thrust, words breathy over his lips.  

"Is that right?" Duke teases, kissing him for a moment, then biting Stiles' lower lip.  "You look fantastic like this, have I ever told you that?" 

Stiles groans, clutching at the sheets as Deucalion pulls his hips up to drive in deeper.  ”You might’ve mentioned it.” 

Muffling his laughter against Stiles’ collar, Deucalion’s pace falters.  ”You’ve seriously got to stop making me laugh, darling.” 

"No I don’t."  Stiles grins, cheeky and taunting.  "Roll on your back and I’ll show you how it’s done." 

They end up coming together with fingers laced, hands clutching.  There are faint smiles on their lips as they rock through the aftershocks of it, and Deucalion traces Stiles’ nose with his own as they bask in the afterglow.  

Stiles cracks a joke about needing a cigarette.  They end up giggling until it devolves into more kisses, more touches.  They fall asleep wrapped up in each other. 

Stiles knows it’s a high school relationship, but he kind of gets the feeling that this one might last a while.  


End file.
